


Customer Service

by Beth Harker (Beth_Harker)



Category: Newsies (1992)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Modern AU, cofee shop au, not meant to be a realistic representation of working at Starbucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-04
Updated: 2013-05-04
Packaged: 2019-09-27 14:40:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17163854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beth_Harker/pseuds/Beth%20Harker
Summary: Skittery, David, and Kid Blink as disgruntled Starbucks baristas.  Skittery POV.





	Customer Service

“Let’s get Skittery a job!” hadn’t been one of Mush’s best ideas. Not that Skittery hadn’t needed the job. He absolutely had. It was just that ever since Mush had started work at Starbucks he’d made it his goal to get all of his friends to work at Starbucks too, focusing especially on the ones with the least potential to excel in the customer service industry. 

That’s how Skittery, Blink, and David had all ended up beginning their ill-advised and most likely short-lived careers as baristas. The fact that they’d all been scheduled to work the same shift was probably the manager’s idea of a cruel joke. The fact that they’d been particularly busy all day was probably due to the wrath of an angry god. The lines were practically out the door, every table was full, and that was due to… well, it was due to Manhattan being the kind of place that it was. 

“Excuse me,” said one woman, who had just gotten up from her seat and leapt in front of all of the waiting customers. “I’d like another glass of water please.” 

“The line is back there,” Skittery tried, already knowing that it wouldn’t work. 

“I’ve already waited in line,” the woman said in tone of deep sarcasm. “You know? When I bought my coffee? Do you remember?” 

“Here at Starbucks,” said David from the next register, “we remember all of our hundreds of customers because each one of you is very special and individual to us.” 

Skittery rolled his eyes and got the lady her water. David had a voice that he used especially to speak to customers that made him sound like a children’s television show host, only with something sinister lurking deep underneath that made Skittery wonder if he wasn’t secretly wishing they’d spill hot coffee on their sensitive areas. The man behind the woman was yelling at Skittery that it had been his turn in line, and while Skittery privately thought he was correct, he didn’t care enough to say anything more than a noncommittal “One second, sir.”

The next couple of people in line were easy enough. They knew what they were ordering and didn’t ask a lot of questions, which Skittery appreciated. Blink, however, didn’t appreciate them much. He was doing most of the work making the coffee, while Skittery took the cash register, and David floated between the two, answered any questions that came up, tried to keep everything stocked, and made a great show of ignoring Jack, who showed up whenever David was working and spent the day drinking milk and cinnamon concoctions that he made at the condiment bar.

“If you refill the milk pitcher one more time I’m going to punch you in the face,” Blink whispered to David at one point. Dave might have looked nervous for a split second, but customers were shouting at him and he had better things to do than be concerned about empty threats.

“You refill it then,” David said. “It’s empty and needs to be refilled. Or I don’t know, give it to Jack, and make him take care of it since he likes it so much. No, wait, if the customers consume milk that hasn’t been freshly chilled they might die. Go kick Jack out if you want to punch somebody. Never mind, I’ll do it.” 

David’s words came out in a rush, but Skittery noticed that he didn’t go to make Jack leave, just made a wild gesture at him, which Jack imitated before disappearing.

Twenty more customers, nineteen of which with stupid orders like low-fat lattes with triple helpings of full fat whipping cream, or requests that their coffee be handed to them literally boiling, like they could drink it that way anyway.

One man kept trying to chat with Blink about where his missing eye was, as though maybe he’d just misplaced it at home. Somehow he didn’t get his coffee thrown in his face.

Jack came back, placed a carton of full fat grocery store milk on the condiment table, and settled down on the windowsill to play Fruit Ninja on David’s phone, because he apparently had nothing better to do. David pursed his lips and pretended not to notice him. 

Nothing terrible happened, but by noon Skittery wanted to pull his own hair out. He wasn’t meant for customer service. Hanging out with his best friends for eight hours in one day wasn’t something he wanted to do, and listening to strangers order pretentious drink after pretentious drink was even worse. 

Mush came in an hour before his shift, cheerful like he always was, for whatever inexplicable Mush reasons that he had, like maybe he’d seen a pair of diseased pigeons sitting together on a trashcan and decided that they were an adorable symbol of friendship, because he was Mush and that was how his mind worked. Anyway, Mush also just loved working as a barista, mostly because he could conveniently load up on syrupy drinks before, after, and sometimes during his shift. He was polite about it at least, and stood in line just like anybody else. That didn’t make Skittery’s mood any better. 

“You get a coffee,” he said testily when Mush reached the front of line. “Black coffee, and that’s final.” 

“Okay…” Mush said slowly. “Thanks Skits.” 

As it turned out, Skittery needn’t have bothered. Blink knew Mush’s order, and a minute later he handed him a venti strawberries and cream frappuccino, and Mush sat down next to Jack to wait for his turn behind the counter.


End file.
